One Finger
by rizlow
Summary: Dean never backs down from a challenge... One shot, Dean and Reader.


"Seriously, Y/N, come here." Dean is getting frustrated, you can hear it in his voice, but you're feeling stubborn. He's always so bossy. And you don't feel like doing any more self-defense drills today. So done with the whole thing, you want a cup of coffee, some bacon and eggs, and a shower.

"I'm done, Dean. Going to have some breakfast."

"Get your ass over here," he demands, his brows drawn together in a thunderous frown, his jaw working.

You whirl to face him, folding your arms. "No! I'm sick to death of all this 'training' bullshit, I'm tired, I'm hungry, and I want a long, hot shower!"

Dean lowers his head a little, his eyes squinting dangerously, and he slowly points his finger at you, then turns his hand over and crooks his finger, beckoning you to come back. You laugh, widening your stance, not moving an inch.

"Oh, Winchester – like you can make me come with one finger." You smirk at him, watching his expression subtly change, the annoyed anger in his eyes replaced with heat and just a touch of menace.

A little thrill zings up your spine, and you take a step back as he suddenly advances. "Dean, what…"

Your sentence ends with a 'whoof!' as he throws you over his shoulder and carries you down the hall towards his room.

He stalks into the room, kicking the door shut behind him, and practically throws you onto the bed. "Clothes off. Now." You start to laugh, but it dies in your throat as you look up at him. He's not laughing. He's not even smiling. His chest is rising and falling with his heavy breathing, and his jade eyes are dark and determined.

"Dean?" you stammer softly as he looms over you, reaching to run his fingertip lightly back and forth over your lips.

"I don't take challenges lightly, sweetheart. So if you want me to stop… now would be the time to speak up." You stare up at him, searching his eyes, a hint of trepidation nagging at you. You have never done anything like this with Dean – just hunting together, and training, and meaningless (you thought) flirting. You never thought he even minutely thought of you this way. And now… he's hovering over you, demanding things you've only fantasized about in your wildest dreams. It seems like your gaze is locked on his forever, but you don't say anything, don't push him away, and his tongue darts out over his lips as he pushes just the tip of his finger between yours.

You look into his eyes as you part your lips a little, running your tongue over his fingertip. Arousal begins to cause an ache between your thighs as you watch him blink slowly, his upper lip almost imperceptibly twitching. When you run your tongue around his finger, then slowly begin to suck it into your mouth, you could swear his eyes begin to glow with heat. His nostrils flare a little as he breathes deeply, and his voice is husky as he speaks. "Take your clothes off, Y/N."

You put both hands over his as you suck hard while pulling back from him, his finger leaving your lips with a soft pop. His hand moves immediately to his groin, and he bites his lip a little as he adjusts himself, his arousal evident, straining against the denim. You keep your eyes on him as you pull your shirt slowly over your head, shaking the hair from your face as you toss it to the floor. You reach behind you to unfasten the clasp of your bra, and he devours every millimeter of skin you expose with his eyes. You raise up on your knees, pushing your workout pants down, then your panties, and then shift to a sitting position to pull them the rest of the way off. You shiver at the sound that comes from deep within him, a muffled groan, and when he rumbles, "Lay down," you obey without question.

He moves from the bed, walking around to the side and sitting down on the edge, next to you, letting his index finger trace over your hairline, your jaw, around the shell of your ear. "You want me to prove that I can make you come with one finger? I can do it, sweetheart, but you'll wish you hadn't said that. It would be so much faster if I could use… everything." You shudder, and he smiles slowly. "Never let it be said that I backed down from a challenge."

Right now you are so aroused that you wouldn't be surprised if one touch from that finger would set you off. But he won't let you off that easy, and he continues teasing. He's leaving trails of heat over your neck, along the slope of your shoulders, along your collarbones, and the way he's shifting his weight as he sits there tells you this is glorious torture for him as much as for you. You are beginning to squirm beneath his attentions, and when he finally gets close to your breast, his lips curve in a slightly evil smile as you suck in a jagged breath. "Still think I can't do this?" he whispers as he traces patterns over the soft curves, down into the valley between, and up the other side. When he finally, after an eternity, circles your nipple, closer with each orbit around the almost painfully hard peak, you whimper, your body arching to meet his touch as he brushes over it, and you close your eyes, your hips raising up a little, craving the same treatment. "God, I want my lips on you right now, sweetheart. I want to suck that nipple right into my mouth, I want to taste your skin, I want to nibble on your neck. But I can't do that, not until you come. Not until this finger, all by itself, gets you off. Then I'm gonna take you apart." His voice is a low, quiet growl as he finishes speaking, and he moves to your other breast, rubbing softly over the peak, then flicking his finger over it, faster and faster until you moan, your hips coming off the mattress again, seeking.

You're becoming almost incoherent now, your body taking over, your mind only focusing on primal urges, wanting. He still takes his time, caressing your ribs, your sides, your belly, even though he's squirming almost as much as you are now. As he finally makes his way to the crease of your thigh, then lower, you whine out his name. He ignores you, watching his hand as you move your legs further apart, a willing victim of his exquisite torment. He swears softly as he works his fingertip through your folds, dripping with your arousal. "Fuck, I have to taste you," he whispers, bringing the digit to his lips, and you whimper again as he sucks your flavor from his skin, a low moan in his throat. "You'd better come fast, Y/N, because I don't know how much longer I can hold back," he says, his voice as wrecked as you feel, and then he's touching you again, coating himself with your slick before dragging his fingertip up to your clit.

You cry out as he flicks over it, then again, faster and faster, and your hips are thrusting towards the pressure, completely out of your control. "Please," you beg, and he narrows his eyes, his jaw working, his fingertip pressing hard against the throbbing nub and rubbing, rubbing… You are shouting, wordless cries dragged roughly from you as the jolts of electricity from his touch become a current running through you, exploding in a galaxy of stunning, devastating pleasure. You hear him swear again, somewhere in the white nova that surrounds you, your body thrashing as he works you through it, very slowly gentling his touch as your body trembles, shudders its way back to awareness.

And then he's kissing you, softly, gently, before looking down at your face, brushing hair from your eyes. "You okay?" he asks, and you nod.

"Oh my god, yes," you say, your voice hoarse, and he smiles.

"So I win?"

"You completely win. I will never doubt you again."

"Promise?" He rubs his nose against yours, Eskimo kisses, and you smile.

"Promise. Now get up here and finish what you started, Winchester."

"Yes, ma'am," he growls, pulling his shirt over his head.


End file.
